The Red Suitcase…travels Brazil

PROLOGUE

Xander couldn’t quite recall the first time Lalo, Gil, and Chico came to Praia de Sossego to play. They’d met at Geladinho, the family’s ice cream parlor when he first arrived in Brazil. Soon thereafter, the cousins were stopping by his house on the beach. The boys were already avid surfers. Immediately they became Xander’s Portuguese instructors, then they gradually taught him how to catch the waves lazily breaking along the shoreline. At their house behind the ice cream shop, they generously shared their toys and the delicious variety of tropical ice cream flavors. Xander was often invited to spend the night or eat a meal. Within a few months, in the most open and natural way, they incorporated Xander into their family, helping him to access the world of Bahia where he had arrived by no choice of his own.

Together the little gang had roamed around Vilas on their bikes, played on the beach, usually under the watchful eye of an adult, or occasionally escaped to the video game parlor where the owner rented out Nintendos one real an hour. Next to the video parlor were a bar, a tobacco shop, and a newsstand. Lalo at nearly ten was already a hail fellow well-met. Everywhere he went, he made friends, charmed people, and opened doors which were supposed to be closed.

Sometimes the boys pooled their spare change for Lalo to coax the newsstand owner to sell them copies of Playboy magazine. Xander contributed to the conspiracy by finding a safe place to stash the magazines. This turned out to be an empty suitcase under his bed which he believed would not be opened until it was time to travel again. The plan had worked perfectly. The boys would disappear into Xander’s room, close the door, and pour over the centerfolds. Xander guessed that Dona Amelia, their housekeeper, might have been on to their stash, but she never said a word. The magazines were only discovered a half year later when his mother fished the suitcase out from under his bed to pack for a trip.

An open rucksack starred up at Xander. He considered whether or not he was merely chasing an illusive memory? Giving up the privileges of what friends called an “awesome” job to travel into a hazy past, did that really make sense? I can’t be certain unless I actually try, he told himself. This trip could be the biggest adventure of my life, or as Sarah asserted, it was nothing more than a flight from reality.

His departure for Brazil wasn’t entirely auspicious. It had catapulted an end to a relationship. This was the longest relationship Xander had with a girlfriend and a lovely girlfriend at that. As he reflected, he knew that he had to find himself before he could commit to someone else. And like many friends, he agreed that twenty seven was not the time in a young man’s life to settled down, especially here in foggy London.

After all, his parents had trotted the globe constantly for more than thirty years before settling in Edinburgh. Even now, they weren’t all that settled. Randall took many short and medium consultancies overseas while Corina seemed to always be going somewhere to a conference or for a short writing gig. To Xander the five years he spent in living in Brazil from nine to fourteen made the longest stretch that he’d lived anywhere as a child.

When he received an email from Lalo with an invitation to come to Salvador before the 2016 Olympic Games which would be played in Rio, he couldn’t resist. Fantasies about reconnecting with his old gang in Vilas had begun popping into his mind with increasing frequency especially when he was sitting in front of the computer screen trying to solve complicated programming problem. He felt the sensations of the Atlantic breeze ruffling his curly dark hair, felt the sting of salt and sunshine on his shoulders, and the rubbing of sand between his toes.

For the past five years he’d spent everyday inside looking at a flickering screen. There wasn’t any doubt, he was craving physical action in the arms of nature. The World Cup invitation could provide the escape route he needed. He knew that Sarah wouldn’t want to go along. She detested football and didn’t like hot places. She would never be a surfer. In fact, she barely knew how to swim.

A holiday they’d taken in the Cinque Terre the past summer had been a minor disaster. He’d wanted to hike the mountainous paths among the five villages. After the first day, Sarah flatly refused to undertake another hike, insisting that they should go by train or boat. She had not even packed a bathing suit. When Xander bought her a surprise Italian bikini, she’d balked at the idea of wearing it. Of course, her smooth English skin was linen white from zero sun exposure in London. He’d told her in all honestly that she looked sensational in the bikini with her glittering auburn hair and perfect curves in all the right places.

A month after Lalo’s email arrived, when Xander finally mentioned the invitation. he had added that he was thinking of spending some time in Brazil before the big event. That he wanted to become reacquainted with Brazil after being away for fifteen years.

“I thought we were going to Norway this summer. How are you going to get leave from your job if you spend most of your vacation in Brazil? “

He’d told her that Chase, his boss, was willing to give him an extra two weeks leave, without pay, this year. Actually, Xander had been prodding Chase for an extended leave of two months total as his goal.

“Two weeks unpaid leave, but how are we going to able to afford the first and last month’s rent for a bigger flat, if you take unpaid vacation?”

Sarah had the idea of moving ever since they began living together, over one year now. Things were a bit tight in his place even though it was spacious for a bedsitter. The bathroom and kitchenette were nicely remolded, and there was even a separate water closet. But, when they were both in the flat over a long weekend it felt cramped and they started to get on each other’s nerves. Fortunately, Sarah, a pediatric nurse, worked the evening shift during the week and had a weekend shift twice each month giving them both a bit of breathing space.

The smoldering coals burst into flames two months later when they were having dinner with Chase one Saturday night. Chase raised his wine glass and proposed a toast to permission granted for Xander’s extended leave request.

“You’re going to be a free man, Xander. I just got approval for your leave of absence this morning from Michael. What do you say about that old man? Of course, everyone wants you back in September with a lot of good stories to tell us.”

Sarah, her sweet, composed self, said nothing. As soon as they got home she disappeared into the bathroom to take off her make up and shower. When she emerged her eyes were pink and puffy. Xander could see that she’d been crying. He felt fully remorseful.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie. I knew you’d be upset. I didn’t have the heart to tell you before I got the final word from Chase. Really, I didn’t want to hurt you, but I need to do this. It’s not about you; it’s about me.”

“No! It’s about us,” she whimpered with tears beginning to brim up in her sensitive blue eyes.

Xander wasn’t good with crying. He’d never seen his mother or his father cry. He didn’t have any sisters or brothers, for that matter, which might have given him some experience with crying. He felt awkward and ill at ease with Sarah’s emotional display even though he could empathize with what she was be feeling.

“Sarah, it’s not about us; it’s about me. I’m sorry if this seems selfish. I just need to get away from my job, my life in London…

“You mean our life in London,” her voice pitched up an octave.

“Not our life. Just life. This isn’t the life I want. I know it seems like a good life, but I’m restless. Besides, I don’t feel like I belong here. I’m not English.”

“You’re as English as you are anything, Xander!” “Maybe you’re right about that. What I do know is that I need to get away for a while and this is my chance. I lived in Brazil longer than any other place when I was a kid…”

“So what were you planning to do? Pretend to go to Brazil for two weeks then send me a dear Sarah email saying “…by the way, just wanted to let you know that I won’t be coming back for a few months”?

Xander felt like a cad. He knew that he hadn’t figured out how to handle this. For him, it was much harder than solving a complex programming problem. After the quarrel, Sarah didn’t mention his travel plans again. She acted as if everything were normal. He was relieved and more than willing to go along with this.

The evening before his departure for Brazil, Xander arrived home a bit later than usual. As he opened the door something felt different. Looking around he noticed the picture hung over the sofa was missing. It was a picture of the lake district which Sarah had given him as a birthday present. When he retracted the closet door to get a change of clothes, a gapping hole stared at him where Sarah’s dresses, blouses and pants had crowded aside the scant clothes he possessed.

His throat went dry and tight with shock. He hadn’t expected her to just move out without saying a word. Regret flooded over him. Re-tracing the past weeks in his mind, Sarah had seemed her usual sensitive self, always solicitous of his feelings, asking about his preferences for food or how they would relax during free moments. She’d babbled on as usual when arriving home from her shift at the hospital, telling him about a new patient, the child’s worried parents, or that her sister had called and spent a long time complaining about how she wasn’t getting along with their mother.

These were things which had become normal to Xander, even if he wasn’t especially interested, he listened. He might have preferred to talk about a story he’d heard on the BBC or an article he’d read the Economist which always overflowed with information about happenings across the globe.He never suspected that Sarah might be capable of being secretive or plotting. But here it was; she had been plotting without so much as a hint. The tables had turned, and he did not like the feeling, not at all.

Then he saw a slip of yellow lined paper on the counter. It had been torn from a small notepad they kept in the kitchen to make shopping lists.

“Good bye, good luck, don’t call, don’t write, it’s over!”

Xander panicked. Who was going to take care of his broad leafed Fire Chief caladium and the red and orange flecked mango croton he had been tending for the past five years?